


The Trees Like Torches

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Suilad Aran Thranduil [11]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: my heart doesn't need this pain, why do you guys let me continue writing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:12:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire was red,<br/>It flaming spread.<br/>The trees like torches<br/>Blazed with light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trees Like Torches

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Summary taken from Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold by Tolkien.  
> Song in fic is Pompeii by Bastille. I told you guys to keep me away from that band...

**_I was left to my own devices  
Many days fell away with nothing to show_**  
  
They are on their own. He knows. He knows. He knows. They are on their own. They have always been on their own. Always and forever, and Valar, he wishes it wasn’t so. All they have ever done, all they have ever been able to do is hold the enemy off. Never push them back, never run them out; only ever hold them off. Only ever keep them from advancing. And that’s all they do now. Hold them off. Keep them from advancing further than they already have. Nothing more.  
  
 _ **And the walls kept tumbling down**_  
 _ **In the city that we love**_  
 _ **Grey clouds roll over the hills**_  
 _ **Bringing darkness from above**_  
  
The forest is burning. Smoke fills the air and swirls its way up to join the foul darkness Sauron has created. This blackness, it is unnatural, it is stifling. It is crushing. Burning, already burning. Up in flames everything goes. He wonders how they’re ever going to control this fire. Whether it will even matter. Whether it will even matter because they will lose this battle. They will lose this fight. Valar, he wishes it wasn’t so.  
  
 _ **But if you close your eyes,**_  
 _ **Does it almost feel like**_  
 _ **Nothing changed at all?**_  
 _ **And if you close your eyes,**_  
 _ **Does it almost feel like**_  
 _ **You've been here before?**_  
 _ **How am I gonna be an optimist about this?**_  
 _ **How am I gonna be an optimist about this?**_  
  
He swallows heavily and closes his eyes, tears threatening to fall. There she is, the beautiful green forest. The lush tree top kingdom that had once been their home. There she is. He takes a stumbling step forward, but it’s alright, there’s a path here. He will not fall, of course he will not fall. He could walk these paths in his sleep, and he has many times.

He walks, taking in the sight, the trees swaying and the sun peeking through their leaves. But he knows. He knows. He knows he has to go back there, back to that place. The dark place, where the trees are burning or long dead or both. The place where he has to fight to breathe, and struggle to live. He knows. He knows he cannot stay here, where everything is bright and beautiful. He knows this place is lost to him, always and forever. He takes a another step…  
  
 ** _We were caught up and lost in all of our vices_**  
 ** _In your pose as the dust settles around us_**  
  
… and promptly trips over something. His eyes fly open as he crashes towards the ground, his hands coming up to protect him just before impact. He takes a moment to collect himself, and then rolls to his feet, wondering what he had tripped over. When he turns, he wishes he hadn’t. The tears burn in his eyes and he doesn’t fight to keep them back. The elven body lying before him, recognizable from the pale skin still visible on one side of its face. Frozen in time, reaching desperately towards something, maybe someone had been there once, before the elf had lost all will, before the fire had burned too hot for the elf to survive. Thranduil sucks in a breath and turns away.  
  
 _ **Oh where do we begin?**_  
 _ **The rubble or our sins?**_  
 _ **Oh where do we begin?**_  
 _ **The rubble or our sins?**_  
  
If they win this. If they get through this. Where will they even begin to rebuild? What will there be left but ashes and memories of a place that was once beautiful? Where will they begin? How? So much death. So much destruction. How will they rebuild from this? How will they pick up the pieces and start again? How will they walk along the path and remember the trees that once shaded it? How will they walk along the path and forget the trees burning and the smoke clogging up their lungs? The ashes blowing in the wind.  
  
 ** _If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?_**

He closes his eyes. There she is. His beautiful forest. His beautiful Greenwood. His beautiful forest of Green Leaves. There she is. Not burning. Never burning. She has never burned in her life and she never will burn. Ever.

A hand clasps his shoulder and he tries, he tries so Valardamned hard to keep his eyes closed but he can’t. The tears fall as his eyes open and gone is the vision of his beautiful forest, replaced by ashes and fire and nothing. There is nothing here for him.

He stiffens his jaw and turns his head towards his friend, eyes blazing like the trees. The words are ground out through his clenched teeth, “If this is the end in fire, then we shall all burn together.” He hardens his heart and returns to the fray, like always. Like always and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> The Battle Under the Trees hurts me a lot. You don't even know.


End file.
